


A Change in the Weather

by laurelofthestory



Series: A World Called Terra [5]
Category: Terraria
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Literal Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurelofthestory/pseuds/laurelofthestory
Summary: Another cycle has come and gone, but in the interim, a friend appears to offer comfort and show the Guide something that may indicate change is near.(References to 1.4 spoilers)
Relationships: Dryad/Guide (Terraria)
Series: A World Called Terra [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/728472
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	A Change in the Weather

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh...how about that 1.4! It's been a while, but the new update's inspired me to write again. I may make something a little more tied in to the update soon--this was originally supposed to be a bit more related to new content, but just devolved into fluffy dorks, because it's been forever and I missed them. That being said, there are spoilers relating to one of the new bosses, though nothing terribly specific.
> 
> Semi related to my larger Terraria canon, mostly the oneshots.

With a _twang_ of his bowstring, another flying fish fell from the sky, its remains quickly absorbed back into the earth leaving nothing but a few scattered coins behind.

A brief scan of the sky revealed no more of the creatures in the immediate vicinity, and the Guide turned to continue walking down the hill, not bothering to retrieve his arrow--he’d always have more when he needed them, anyway. One of the few perks.

It was times like these that he wished he had something more to do in the cycle’s dull periods than idle target practice. He didn’t _mind_ the aimless wandering, of course, and it wasn’t like he wasn’t _used_ to it after all this time, but he tended to get restless after a cycle’s end, especially an end like this one. He couldn’t ever be sure how much of that restlessness was _his._

The rain was beginning to come down harder, now, the wind picking up, forcing Guide to take refuge under a tree. Perhaps not the best idea, if the thunder in the distance was any indication, but the worst that could happen would be him getting fried by lightning, which would be more of a nice change of pace than anything else. His shirt clung to his skin, his drenched hair fell in his face, and he had no doubt that the pitiful ring of flowers on his head was rapidly disintegrating--but even so, the rain didn’t bother him. It was a bit of a _comfort,_ even.

Things didn’t burn as easily in the rain.

And besides, Guide was quite used to being out in the thick of it without a refuge, whether that was due to his own wanderings or a particularly mean-spirited hero who would either never give him anywhere to live or fill his entire living quarters with a thin layer of lava (really, he knew--or at least _hoped_ \--it was a coincidence, but it was one he’d prefer _not_ to deal with more than he already had to, given the apparent love of hackey-sack he could only assume by now that most demons possessed.)

He let himself slide down the trunk of the tree until he was sitting in the mud, casting his bow off beside him and pulling off his glasses in a pitiful attempt to clean them on his soaked shirt. While the rain wasn’t a problem, the thunder in the distance and the growing wind was a bit of a concern--he hadn’t seen it storming like this in quite some time. He _could_ try and head back the way he came, towards the little village he’d just departed, but he wasn’t certain if getting caught in a thunderstorm was better or worse than the looks he’d get and the amount of questions he’d have to give half-baked answers to.

No, on second thought, the thunderstorm was by _far_ the better option.

Guide closed his eyes and prepared to settle in for the afternoon--not to sleep, of course, but to enjoy the sound of the rain from the refuge of the tree, the moisture under his hands, the sweet smell of life in the air. There was a comforting familiarity to it that brought to mind fonder memories, and he idly reached up a hand, almost afraid to touch the garland that sat there for fear it had dissolved.

To his surprise, not only was the garland still there, but as he touched it, the stem of one of the flowers messily sticking out from it spontaneously curled around his finger.

Guide blinked his eyes open, squinting through the rain and standing up, one hand still on the garland. A rustling sounded from above him, and his gaze turned upwards, though the top of the tree was just an indistinct blob of green with his wet glasses still in his other hand.

“If you’re gonna attack me, be my guest,” he said to the leaves, opening his arms to his sides with a bemused smirk.

More rustling, and then--a mass of lighter green seemed to practically _melt_ out of the leaves, forming a humanoid figure that landed in a crouch on the earth with the grace of a cat. Guide slipped his glasses back on as the figure stood, and even through the raindrop trails on the lenses, he could see green hair and clothes of leaves and vines.

Most dryads looked the same, but the even brighter green eyes of this one and the style of her hair and clothes left her unmistakable.

A wry smile replaced the smirk, and he held out his arms wider. “Offer’s still open, you know.”

Alalia scoffed, though a smile as light as a spring breeze touched the corners of her lips as she shook her head. “No, no. We’ve already been through that, remember?”

“Listen, I’ve got a lot of things on my mind. You expect me to remember _one_ dryad trying to kill me--oh, wait.” A hand went playfully to his chin, and Alalia laughed. As soft as it was, the sound alone seemed to cause all the weight and tension to drop out of his shoulders, and he couldn’t help but laugh in turn.

“Should you be out in this weather?” Alalia asked, once she’d collected herself. A tone of amusement still sang under her words. “I spoke to my sister from your hero’s village--she said you were faring well. Shouldn’t you…”

She trailed off, likely noticing all of the mirth fall off of his face. “Yeah, about that…” Guide’s gaze pointedly dropped to the ground, and he could see Alalia _cringe_ out of the corner of his eye. He let out a heavy sigh. “Last night. Even managed to warn this one, but, you know...summoners.” The unspoken truth hung in the air for a few moments, even the sound of the rain gaining a more solemn edge. Guide glanced up and tried to force a signature smirk. “Couldn’t have waited a few more hours, huh? Inconsiderate.”

Alalia’s brows knit in concern. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, I guess.” At her reproachful gaze, he relented. “Been better. This one died quick, at least.”

“Yes...at least…”

She trailed off. The thick, humid air between them was suddenly much less comforting, seeming to collect in his mouth to choke him as he avoided her gaze. He _hated_ this. He hated having to keep _telling_ her this. He hated having to go through cycle after cycle with nothing changing, always ending the same way, and him always stupidly having some spark of hope that things would be _different_ this time around.

Honestly, he was surprised that _**it**_ hadn’t squashed all the hope and humanity he had left out of him yet.

Alalia’s gentle touch to his wrist brought him out of his spiraling thoughts, and Guide looked up. Her eyes were full of concern. “Do you _want_ to stay out here in the rain?”

Guide opened his mouth to wave off her concerns, probably with a cheeky quip, but a flicker of lightning and the low rumble of thunder immediately after made him reconsider. “...You know what, actually, nah, I’d rather _not_ go back to being dead so fast.”

“Good.” The tight edges of her expression softened ever so slightly as her hand gripped his. “I had something to show you, anyway. You will be interested.”

* * *

The little cave entrance was as good a shelter as any, and truthfully, Guide felt a lot safer with a spirit of Terraria itself guarding him from whatever wayward creatures might appear at the opening. He sat with his back against the wall, Alalia beside him, the flickering light of a torch he’d affixed to the dirt above illuminating their refuge even as the clouds outside made it nearly dark as night.

“...Can’t remember the last time it stormed this bad,” Guide observed, still trying ineffectively to dry off his glasses. “I mean, can’t say I pay a whole lot of attention to the _rain,_ anymore, but…”

“No, you’re right.” Alalia was turned away from him, knees curled up to her chest as she stared intently out of the cave. For a while, she didn’t elaborate, letting her statement be punctuated only by the now near-constant grumble of the sky. “...There has been a change.”

“A change?” Guide puts his glasses back on and sits up straighter. “I-- _we_ would’ve noticed something.”

“Not a large one. Not one that would have affected... **it,** much less you. But the world is always shifting, however slightly.” Alalia turns back to him. “Or perhaps this shift _did_ affect **it.** I wanted you to take a look at something.”

“Looking at things is, quite literally, my job.”

She gave a quiet snort, and pulled out, seemingly from nowhere, a small glass jar, holding it out towards him without another word. He leaned in for a better look at the contents, squinting through the raindrops still stubbornly resting on his glasses. A leaf from a jungle tree, still budding with moisture, had been placed carefully on the bottom of the jar. On top of that was sprinkled a few blades of what he recognized as wilted Hallowed grass, and on top of _that…_ He didn’t immediately recognize the creature. It would be easy to mistake for a common butterfly, were it not for the brilliant, vivid colors that still shone along its body and pearlescent wings, seeming to glow with a multicolored light of its own even though the creature was clearly dead.

Alalia nudged the jar closer to him, and he reached out to rest a hand against it. His eyebrows shot up as the world’s knowledge flowed through him. “A _prismatic lacewing…_ ”

“As I thought.” Alalia gave the jar and the creature within a sad smile. “The fae queen’s favorite.”

“But _how?_ ” Guide took his hand from the jar, turning his gaze back to Alalia. “No one’s seen one of these things in...well.”

“One of my sisters told me. A very small patch of Hallow reappeared at the edge of one of the jungles, clearly trying to regrow. We are not sure why. Errant souls, perhaps?” She closed her eyes and sighed. “It...did not last long, of course. It was only a few pixies and this poor creature. It died when the Hallow faded. I wanted you to see it before I returned it to the earth, since…”

She trailed off, but the implication was a heavy weight in the air. If the Hallow were to ever exist again, it would be in a world where he was well and truly dead.

“...It’s beautiful,” he managed. “I wish I could’ve seen it alive.”

“I do, too.”

Alalia offered him the jar again, and he took it in both hands, setting it in his lap and peering down at it. There was a certain roiling that grew in the pit of his stomach upon looking at a Hallowed creature, something he desperately swallowed down because he _knew_ the feeling wasn’t his. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, made a concerted effort to relax and force the feeling back down his throat.

The creature was beautiful, regardless of its origins. He would stand by that. It was _his_ opinion, and _his_ alone that mattered.

Guide opened his eyes again, only to see Alalia staring at the ground with an air of melancholy about her. He glanced over in her direction, waiting for her to say something. If she wanted to, she would.

“...Do you know anything about the fae queen,” she asked, eventually. “I was very young when the Hallow vanished.”

“The Empress.” He pursed his lips, wracking his brain. “...You know I don’t remember a whole lot about... _before._ ” Before the seal. Before the cycles. Before his role. Before **it.** Even his _name_ from back then had been long lost. Perhaps that was for the best. “But I _have_ read some things. They say she was a tyrant…”

“You know how they speak of all things Hallowed.”

“It wasn’t _good,_ Layli. I mean--it _was_ good. But it was too much.” His shoulders slumped, and his gaze dropped back to the butterfly. “You know about the things in the dark, but...too much light can blind a person. There’s gotta be balance.”

“I know. I just...suppose I wish that were not the way of things, at times.”

“I wish I could pretend sometimes, too. I’d be over the _moon_ \--” A brief grimace of pain crossed his face. “--okay, poor choice of words. I’d be _thrilled_ if the world didn’t have any dark in it. Of course I would. But…”

“...it is not something someone in your position can choose to ignore,” Alalia finished.

Guide nodded. “I don’t know why they did it. Sealed the _whole thing_ away. But...I’ve gotta believe there was a reason. I can’t _not_ believe there was a reason.”

Alalia bit her lip, crossing her legs under her. Guide just watched the butterfly, as if it would start moving again if he stared at it long enough. They were quickly swallowed by the sound of the rain and thunder, seeming to wrap around them in a thick blanket.

“...Do you think she is...alive? The Empress? That she has not been...consumed?”

“I don’t want to ask.”

“Then don’t ask.” She watched him with a sudden, acute intensity that never failed to bring a warmth to his face. “What do _you_ think?”

“...I think…” It took him a moment. “...I think if it couldn’t get rid of the dark souls, it couldn’t get rid of the light ones, either. From what I know, she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Maybe you’ll see her again.” _And hopefully you won’t regret it._

“Yes, perhaps…” There was a slight sadness to her tone that eluded him, and she turned to stare out the cave entrance again. Another silence. Another slow, languid roll of thunder. And then; “Since when did you make flower crowns?”

Guide jolted, a bit taken aback as his hand flew to his head. He’d nearly forgotten about that. “I--uh--there’ve been a lot more flowers around lately. I needed something to do, and it, uh…” He ducked his head, suddenly unable to look directly at her. “...it made me feel better. About the whole thing.” _Because it made me think of you._

When he dared to glance up, she was smiling gently at him, though there was a look in her eyes all the knowledge of the world can’t help him place. “It is a mess,” she chuckled.

“Not all of us can just _grow_ them,” he pouted.

She reached over and plucked the garland off his head, ignoring his whine of protest and setting it down on the ground in front of them. It _did_ look rough, now that he could see it. “I will help you make another once the storm is through.”

“I’d like that.”

They lapsed into silence once more. The thunder was growing more distant, the rain less intense, though the sky was still dark, and truthfully, Guide didn’t particularly feel like getting up and heading back out there. Even if he’d just come back to life, he was still utterly exhausted, and the gentler sound of the rain was soothing. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the dirt wall. He’d gotten very good at just drifting without actually sleeping. Sleeping was too dangerous. But it was so tempting…

It took him a moment to realize he’d rolled his head to the side so it was resting on Alalia’s shoulder. Guide abruptly sat up straight, scooting away from the dryad down the wall. She immediately turned to stare at him in puzzlement as his face heated up again.

“Guide.” Her voice was stern. “When was the last time you slept.”

“Last night. I was dead.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“You know how it is.” The _lord of eternal nightmares_ was no easy curse to bear. Truthfully, he’d slept a few nights ago, unable to resist the call of a bed this hero had generously given him--and apparently, he’d gotten up in his sleep, walked out the front door, and started mowing down zombies with hellfire arrows, which was _concerning_ on a number of levels. He hadn’t known it could _do_ that.

It was getting stronger. Or perhaps _he_ was finally getting _weaker._ It had taken long enough, he supposed.

Alalia reached out her arm towards him, the look on her face leaving no room for argument. Face still burning, he moved over to her--and as soon as he was within her reach, she wrapped an arm around his back and pulled him in so his head was resting on her shoulder. She smelled of flowers and earth and the world after rain. He thought he might drown in it.

“Rest,” she insisted, reaching up to pluck his glasses off his face. “You are safe.”

They both knew that wasn’t true. But he appreciated the sentiment.

He closed his eyes and relaxed against her, still clutching the lacewing jar in his hands. His body felt like it weighed a ton, and even though he was reluctant, the pull of sleep was too strong.

His dreams were the same as ever; flickers of fire and rage and screaming, blurry flashes of things that were _wrong_ and _awful_ and _not meant for his waking mind to know._ But even when primal fear gripped him, its hold and the images that came with it always quickly melted away, into the sound of pattering rain and the smell of petrichor.


End file.
